She woke up in an unknown room. White walls without any decoration, no furniture except her comfortable but plain bed, and no source of light to be seen, though the room was bright enough.
She tried to rise but the intense pain stopped her and she fell back on the couch. Though she had obviously been tended to and bandaged, her entire body was horribly painful. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what happened in the battle.
It had all begun well though. She had led her army all the way to Tongurstad, and the Bannor crusaders, though tired, were galvanized by the thought they were about to capture the last major Sheaim stronghold on the continent. They had the numbers, the experience and the faith on their side. The first assaults had been costly, but the soldiers had eventually taken foot on the enemy ramparts, and the Sheaim defenders were being pushed back despite the vain sacrifice of countless Pyre zombies. Victory was certain, she had thought then.
Then suddenly, a wave of fear spread among the crusaders as an immense shadow passed over them. One second later, a torrent of fire was raining over them, taking a huge toll among the attackers, as well as some unlucky defenders. The once iron-disciplined warriors instantly broke into a rout, as the black dragon fell upon them. The Sheaim soldiers regained courage and counter-attacked, driving the besiegers out of the battlements. The only thing Angaad could do was to try to organize a proper retreat and contain the losses, sending her last reserves to cover the others in their escape.
Then she realized she was in the frontline – or rather the frontline had come to her. She was trying to rally some men around her, cutting down some reckless Sheaim soldiers who went too far ahead of their comrades, and pulling back with the rest of her army. Before she could even think about moving, the dragon landed right in front of her. She could feel the heat coming from its gigantic mouth and see its massive fangs and its enormous eyes, darker even than its scales and full of anger and malice. She was frozen in place when the monster advanced towards her… and suddenly Brennen was there, sword in hand and interposing between her and the great beast.
It all became confused afterwards. She remembered her love being nearly cut in two by the creature’s giant claws, her running desperately for her life, maddened by both physical and psychological pain, and a powerful explosion just behind her. She had certainly passed out at this moment, been left for dead on the battlefield and been picked up and healed by – who? Certainly not the Sheaim. It wasn’t the Bannor either, otherwise she would lay in a temple of Junil.
Angaad opened her eyes again. A young woman with short brown hair and a strange, sophisticated dress was sitting on the corner of the bed and watching her.
“Greetings, my lady. Please stay still and do not try to speak, you are still too weak. My name is Maer, I am the Mechana Excelsior, the chief architect of the Mechanos. Our forces have found you dying on the battlefield. You are lucky that our techpriests are among the best healers in Erebus. You should have nearly fully recovered in no more than a few weeks.”
“How…?” Angaad coughed violently, unable to say any more.
“Our scouts have been watching the battle from the beginning, my lady. When we saw the Bannor rout, we decided that even though we are no friends of your countrymen, we could not let the demon-lovers slaughter them. We had a few mortars hidden behind the hills, which disrupted the overconfident Sheaim progression. A thopter charge wroke havoc among them, while airships brought some reinforcements to cover the retreat of your fellow crusaders. We didn’t manage to slay their dragon, but I can tell you that the black sorcerer paid the dear price for his victory at Tongurstad. And hopefully, this battle will change your leaders’ and priests’ mind about us ‘heathens’; maybe they won’t overlook our next alliance offer”, Lady Maer said with a slight smile.
Despite the amazing skill of the Mechanos priests, her recovery had been difficult. Even now, her right arm was still hurting, though she suspected it now contained more metal than bone. The medicine she was taking was soothing the pain but had side effects; she was told she might develop an addiction to this strange substance that they call ‘refined mana’. Since her face and hair had been partly burnt by the dragon’s breath, she had to permanently wear a mask that was specially designed for her. She was getting used to it though; and the special goggles that the techpriests mounted on her mask had made her vision keener than ever.
She had thought of going back to the Bannor, but she couldn’t. She would be tried for her failure before the enemy, accused of desertion and the technology and medicine which had saved her life would be declared heretic. There was no doubt she would be sentenced to death.
Anyway, she was not sure to be willing to go back home anymore. Her beloved Brennen was dead, and she was realizing how rigid and oppressing the Bannor empire had been. During the last weeks of her recovery, she spent her days visiting the Mechanos empire – their cities, landmarks, countryside, and their libraries, where she learned much about their culture and technology. There she could read books from all around Erebus, that were either declared heretic in Bannor lands or restricted to the confessors only.
What struck her the most with the Mechanos people was how much freer and happier they looked compared to Bannor citizens. They had free access to knowledge and culture and more importantly freedom of thought, without priests constantly searching for seeds of heresy among them. They were allowed to follow any religion too, even though most notables were worshipping the machine spirit rather than the gods. Even their military was composed of a majority of volunteers and a handful of convicts, rather than the immense Bannor levies of conscripts.
Slowly but surely, Angaad started to enjoy her new life among the Mechanos. She got sick of inactivity though and decided to offer her services to Lady Maer. After all, she hadn’t lost her skills as a commander, and the war against the Sheaim was still raging, more violently than ever. If she couldn’t go back home, at least she could continue to fight for the good. This time however, with Mechanos steel and guns behind her, it would take much more than a single dragon to stop her.